


we've got the dreamers disease

by staccato_ramble



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, implied self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 20:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/871804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staccato_ramble/pseuds/staccato_ramble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal deteriorates so dramatically, in ways that are impossible to ignore. That doesn't stop her husband from trying. </p>
<p>(Or five times Dom tried to ignore what was happening to Mal and the instant where that became impossible.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	we've got the dreamers disease

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to prettypaintedlady for the beta.
> 
> Title taken from New Radicals' _You Get What You Give._

_A mob of people surround Dom._

_Emergency responders, hotel staff, and curious onlookers crowd around him, pushing and tossing him like a man lost at sea. Up until five minutes ago, he had been sobbing and screaming across the street. On the street, he feels nothing but hollowness as he watches as strangers cover Mal's body with a sheet. Police start to clear the area and tries to pull Dom away by the elbow until he croaks, "That's my wife."_

_Pity floods the officer's face and she brings him a blanket, which is when Dom realizes that it's started to rain and he's soaked to the bone. A photographer arrives and lifts the sheet, solemnly documenting the scene. The officer turns him away from the scene, leading him to her squad car._

_"I'm sorry for your loss, sir. Do you have any idea why your wife would have done this?"_

_Dom pulls the blanket a little tighter and shuts his eyes._

 

They wake up.

Mal just stares at her own hands for a while, marveling at their restored youth. There's no arthritis aching in her joints and gone are the liver spots that made her feel self conscious. A moment ago, these hands had been wrinkled as she entwined them with Dom's as they laid down on the train tracks. Now, with the exception of a chip in the nail polish on her ring finger, they're flawless.

Next to her, Dom watches carefully as Mal studies herself. Partially, he wants some sign of the inception's success, but mostly he's watching in awe at the way her forehead scrunches in concentration before a smile graces Mal's face. His totem is here, but Dom doesn't bother testing it right now, because his wife reaches out to him.

Mal curls a hand at the nape of his neck, thumb gently stroking the spot just below his left ear. Leaning in so their foreheads are touching, Dom takes a careful breath, waiting. A chaste kiss lands on his cheek, then Mal’s laugh rings out like bells for a glorious moment.

Then, like she's done ever since the first time they've gone under a PASIV together, Mal whispers, "I just had the most wonderful dream and you were there."

 

Dom awakes one morning to chaos, Mal shaking his shoulder and hissing that he needs to get Phillipa out of the house so she can decorate for their daughter's fifth birthday. It's meant to be a surprise party with a Disney princess theme and Dom has his shirt pulled on before glancing at his phone for the time.

"Mal," he says, voice still hoarse from sleep, "I'm going back to bed."

She spins around to look at him incredulously, only one leg in her jeans and the entire left side of her hair flattened. Her eyes are bloodshot and, when he squints, Dom can see where there's still pillow marks on her cheek. She's beautiful, even with her pre-dawn ugliness and the nasty names she calls him in French as she continues to dress.

Dom steps forward, settling his hands on her hips and pressing a kiss to Mal's neck. She purposefully tosses her hair into his mouth, but otherwise she ignores him. Spinning her around, Dom smiles when he tells her, "Mal, it's only Tuesday. The party is tomorrow."

And her eyes widen in confusion, but when she realizes that Dom is right, she laughs at herself. It's a sharp sound in the morning air, so Dom kisses her again and leads his wife back to bed.

 

When Dom comes home from taking Phillipa to ballet lessons and lunch, he can hear the baby crying from the front door. He takes the stairs two at a time until he's in James' nursery. As soon as he picks his son up, Dom recognizes the problem: he's soaked through his diaper and shorts.

The bathroom door cracks open as Dom starts to fill the tub, Mal greeting him with a smile. "Dom, I'm so glad that you've come home."

"Didn't you hear James crying?" Dom asks, voice tight but low, because his son is still hiccuping as he plays with a toy boat.

Mal's eyes darken momentarily, but with a little shake of her head, it passes. She bites her lip, crouching down to brush James' hair. Her voice shakes when she says, "I didn't hear anything until you turned on the water. I must have fallen asleep."

Automatically, Dom looks to her arms, which are creamy white and free of any needle marks the PASIV would have left. He's about to say something else, but then Phillipa calls from downstairs. Mal tells him to go, starting to rub shampoo into James' hair and singing to him in French.

When he's on the stairs, Dom hears mother and child laughing together.

 

"Dom," Mal says one night, her head tucked against his chest, "Do you think we'll ever be able to tell the difference between dreams and reality?"

"You already solved that problem, darling: totems."

This answer fails to impress her and, as she rolls away from him, Mal points out that Dom knows the secret of her spinning top. It's not the truth of it that hurts Dom, but the way Mal says it as if she doesn't know his totem as well. She goes to the window, the moonlight casting shadows so he can't see her face when, in a faraway voice, she admits, "Sometimes I wonder if I'm going to wake up one day and none of this will have been real."

A lump the size of a fist lodges itself in Dom's throat and he has to swallow twice to get it down. He struggles to make his voice light and teasing when he asks, "Is being married to me such a nightmare?"

There's something mechanical in the way Mal laughs at that, like she's only paying enough attention to provide the correct reaction. Still, she climbs back into bed a moment later and Dom holds her tight as he promises, "This is real, Mal."

It takes some time, but eventually she nods and quietly goes, "Alright."

 

Mal accidentally slices her palm open while preparing dinner one night. At least, that's Dom's guess of what happened, because when he walks in, there's a half cut loaf of bread on the counter and the knife is still in Mal's left hand.

Dom swears and knocks the knife away before wrapping his wife's hand in a dish towel to stop the bleeding. Mal stays as if she's been turned to stone, not even moving when Dom sticks her hand under the facet. Her blood swirls down the drain, but her eyes are still zeroed in on where the knife landed by the kitchen. The light catches it and the glint seems to light up her eyes, a lone star in dark and troubled skies.

"Christ, Mal," is all Dom says, over and over as he sterilizes and bandages her hand.

Mal responds with small sounds that grow, much to Dom's horror, into laughter. She's laughing so hard she's crying, howling as tears run down her face and Dom wants to cry himself when Mal pets his cheek with her bad hand, suddenly serious.

"I've figured it out. We've got to die if we want to get home," Mal whispers conspiratorially, "Just like before."

And he wants to tell her that they are awake, wants to confess to the inception, wants to turn his totem over only to find that none of this is real-

Instead, Dom steps to pick up the knife and rinse it, casually reminding her, "The hotel reservation is all set for tomorrow. The sitter is coming at four."

 

_"Sir?" the officer says again, touching his shoulder gently, "Can you hear me?"_

_Dom doesn't respond, just tilts his head to the sky and allows the rain to hit his face in sharp pin pricks. Vaguely, he's aware of the officer explaining shock to him and herding him into the back of her squad car. She wants to know his emergency contact._

_He rattles off a number automatically, then realizes that he's given Mal's cell. Like something out of a dream or a bad drama film, thunder booms and Dom can't help but laugh. The officer doesn't find it so funny, though, and the pity on her face finally disappears as she rattles of his Miranda rights._

_Dom laughs all the way to the station anyway._


End file.
